January Wedding
by ohwhatprovidence
Summary: In January, they're getting married. Short and sweet Faberry fluff!


**A/N: Just some very short, sweet fluff that came to me while listening to _January Wedding_ by the phenomenal Avett Brothers. I wanted to write a lot of little songfic drabbles and posting them together, but I'm an inpatient person. Please read and review if you can!**

_She's talking to me with her  
__Voice down so low I barely hear her  
__But I know what she's saying  
__I understand because my heart and hers are the same  
__And in January, we're getting married_

This is Quinn's favorite part of every day: when she's not rushing to send something to her editor and Rachel isn't running around backstage, and they've been home long enough that they're both really _there_; Quinn's laptop is shut and her phone is on silent, and Rachel is no longer pacing the living room and ranting about the incompetency of her production's stage manager.

When she walks into their bedroom after locking the door, turning off the lights in the living room, and double-checking that the coffee maker is ready to start brewing at five-thirty the next morning, she finds Rachel sitting up in bed and reading the book that was previously on Quinn's nightstand. Her hair is sitting in a messy bun on top of her head, with small strands falling out and framing her face and over her simple, black-framed glasses ("You can never tell anyone about this," she had warned, when Quinn first stayed the night and saw her taking out her contacts). As per usual, she has stolen Quinn's old Columbia sweatshirt.

She looks up when the floor creaks under Quinn's foot and grins when she sees the blonde leaning against the doorframe.

"Creeper," she says affectionately, throwing a pillow at the blonde.

"Thief," Quinn retorts with a smile, catching the pillow and tossing it back. She crawls into bed and counts in her head how long it takes Rachel to scoot so close that she's practically in her lap (roughly three and a half seconds – a new record).

"Are you enjoying that?" Quinn asks, noting that Rachel must have just picked a random spot and started reading, because she's on page 157.

Rachel nods. "It's quite intriguing."

"You can't take it to work with you until I'm done," Quinn says, knowing that she will anyway, especially when Rachel only turns the page and laughs.

They stay this way for a while, with Rachel reading Quinn's book and Quinn making plans to pick up a second copy because she knows she'll never see that one again, until Rachel yawns dramatically and stretches across the bed to place her glasses and the book on _her_ bedside table.

Quinn reaches over and shuts off the lamp on her side of the bed at the same time that Rachel flips off hers, they share a quick kiss, and then they immediately assume their respective positions as big and little spoon; it's a routine that they've perfected over the past four years.

Rachel grabs Quinn's hand when she drapes it over Rachel's waist and holds it tightly. "I missed you today," she says, letting out a soft sigh. "At the risk of sounding like a needy, overly sentimental girlfriend, I will admit that I miss you whenever you aren't nearby, but your absence left me particularly unhappy today. You should quit your job. Or move your office into my dressing room."

"How about I take you to lunch tomorrow instead?"

Rachel hums thoughtfully. "I suppose that is a reasonable compromise," she says, before yawning again and pulling the blankets up to her chin with her free hand.

They lay in silence for several minutes, and Quinn is just about to doze off when Rachel stirs slightly. "Oh, Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"I made an appointment for us to taste-test vegan wedding cakes on Saturday morning."

"Sounds good."

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Santana refuses to wear the bridesmaid dress I picked out. Will you handle that?"

"Of course."

"Also, Quinn?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I made a playlist of possible first dance songs and put it on your iPhone. If you could just get back to me by, oh, this Friday, that would be…"

"Got it."

No noise comes from the brunette for several minutes, and Quinn is once again on the brink of sleep when she's quickly jolted back into consciousness.

"Quinn?"

"_Yes_, Rachel?"

"I love you."

Quinn smiles against Rachel's neck and pulls her closer. "_I_ love _you_."

"I'm glad that I'm marrying you," Rachel says softly.

"Me too, because if you married someone else, that would just be awkward. I might be a little jealous."

Rachel knocks her leg against Quinn's playfully. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," Quinn says, placing a kiss to Rachel's shoulder. "And I'm glad that I'm marrying you, too."

The room falls quiet again for a few moments, and then, "Quinn?"

"Yes, Rachel?"

"Do you think that doves at the ceremony constitutes animal cruelty? Because I was reading a bridal magazine that…"

"Good night, Rachel."


End file.
